Thought Books And Scrap Books
by Neo Nobody
Summary: Lizzie finds and rummages through an old trunk that she found in the attic of her house. She finds more than she bargained for when she starts reading the 'thought book' and looking through the pictures. Legragorn one-shot! Rated for boyxboy implied sex:D


Princess: Originally, this was going to be WAY shorter, but then the story line just… happened. At 2 in the morning. THANK THE ALMIGHTY GOD IT'S FRIDAY AND I HAVE NOTHING TO DO TOMORROW.

Pie: Actually, if we had something to do, then I'D be the one doing it. Not you. You're just my yami who comes out when I need help writing. And when I'm bored.

Princess: Aw, I love my hikari…

Pie: Yeah I love you too now GET BACK TO YOUR FREAKIN' WORK

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I stare at the pages of the old journal, the crumbling, crackling, yellowing pages.

I try to decipher the words, the language. It all looks like gibberish to me, but it's definitely a confession of some sort. The teardrops and long dents from the pen that decorate the page prove it.

I turn a couple more pages, and, to my relief and excitement, there was English.

_Today, my dear thought book, my I found my own eyes acting on their own and watching __**him again.**_

In the last two words, the letters were scribbled so much that they almost cut through the delicate pages.

_I don't know what to do or say anymore. Every time __**he**__ looks at me, I can feel my heart beating so fast I'm afraid I'll die. I feel as though I'm going to explode. Please, if someone is listening, please help me. I'm begging you. Teach me how to drop these feelings for Aragorn just as I drop all other feelings. I don't understand this world anymore._

Hey, my dad's name is Aragorn! At least now I know that this is a confession of love, of need, of not knowing what to do with one's feelings. This, 'Aragorn', must be the cause for all this grief.

I had been absorbed in this old book ever since I found it earlier this morning. I couldn't read a thing up until this point, but I've tried harder than a blind man who tries to see again. The words hadn't made sense, but the emotion that was put in here by the writer was still trapped here.

_I wish Elrond were here. He would know what to do._

Elrond must be some sort of mentor-type person.

_If Elrond was here he would be able to tell me what to do to cure my feelings. All I know right now is that I don't understand what I'm feeling for __**him. Why does he do this to me? Why do I even stay here when I feel like this? Why is this happening to me? ME? PRINCE LEGOLAS? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?**_

Wait, this, 'Prince', who would be a man, is in love with a… other man? 'Aragorn' was his name?

What is incredibly confusing is my parents names are Legolas ad Aragorn. My two dads, who adopted me thirteen years ago, back when I was just a baby.

My real parents were killed in a car accident, then these two people just showed up and adopted me. After the first few weeks, we became a true family. Uncle Gimli comes to visit every weekend. Wait, I remember hearing about a 'Grandpa Elrond'.

Could this be… my own father's journal? If so, what language was at the beginning of the book?

"_Lizzie!" _a familiar, far-off voice searches for me. _"Dinnertime!"_

"COMING DAD!" I call back, putting the journal back inside the trunk I had rummaged through. I closed the lid and scurried back downstairs.

I greeted my father, Aragorn, his short brown, stringy hair falling around his ears in his forehead. My other father was fumbling around in the kitchen, a greenish apron tied around his mid-section. His short, blonde hair gelled into a little widow's peak at the front. Uncle Gimli sat at the table, his graying trimmed beard and hippie-like hair curled into little controlled corkscrews.

"Ah," Uncle Gimli exclaimed, extending his arms towards me. "There's my beautiful little niece!" we weren't actually related, but we were close enough to be.

I ran and hugged him; taking in his outdoorsy scent he shared with Dad.

You have to understand, I call my father, Aragorn, Dad, and my other father, Legolas, Daddy. Never changes.

Daddy had kind of settled down by the time they adopted me. I always remember hearing stories of how Daddy used to be this great traveler who could tell where he was by the sun, but now he just sticks to traveling the house.

Daddy wiped his hands on his apron then slid it off and chucked it on the counter, showing off his dark wash jeans and his black and white tee shirt which accentuated his tight abdomen, thin arms and legs, and tight muscles. He walked over to Dad and embraced him for a second, kissing his cheek, then pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"Go get it yourself," Daddy said tiredly, his thumb pointing towards the kitchen. All three of us started running to the kitchen then, trying to get the best and most of Daddy's amazingly awesome cooking.

A few more minutes later and table manners were thrown out the window as me, Dad, and Uncle Gimli shamelessly shoveled food into our mouths.

Daddy just sat at the edge of the table respectfully, his fork scraping the plate on beat: _scrape, one-two-three, scrape, one-two-three, scrape-_ and on like that.

After about thirty minutes, everyone was finished eating and sharing stories of camping trips. But during that time, the journal I found always remained in the back of my mind.

"Um…" I started, staring down at my semi-empty plate. The green beans suddenly seemed totally entertaining to me.

"What, sugarplum?" Daddy asked sweetly, looking up from the sink, his overly-blue eyes shimmered with love and care. Every few seconds he would glance at Dad, pure adoration in his eyes. They loved each other very much.

"How did you and Dad meet? When did you fall in love?" Uncle Gimli chuckles his great coughing chuckle. All three of them peeked at each other, unknown memories glinting in their eyes, trading stories before they even vocalized anything.

"We met on a camping trip," Daddy elaborated, "and, at first, I didn't know what to think about this crazy, rugged, dirty, un-showered _beast._ At the time, I was writing in a thought book all the time."

"Yeah, I noticed." Dad cut in, smirking. "It was cutting into my camping time! And, by the way, it's called a _journal _or _diary._" Daddy hit him playfully on the shoulder with his palm.

"As I was saying," he continued, mock-annoyed. "One day, I overslept for some unknown reason. And I think I know why," he glared knowingly at Dad. Drugged? Stayed up overly late? "So, Aragorn took that precious time to dig through my things and read my thought book, where I had confessed my love for him multiple times. I awoke to Aragorn kissing me. And that's pretty much when we started dating. We liked each other, but I fell in love with him after about a month of dating; he had gone missing on a trip, and when he came back I realized how much I really needed him. What do you think, Aragorn?" Daddy turned to Dad, smiling.

"I fell in love the second I saw you."

"Good answer," Daddy whispered, his eyes already falling shut, his face getting closer to Dad's. The fleeting kisses after that were short but incredibly passionate. It's that kind of thing where you feel so bad just watching them, feeling as if you were cutting into their lives just by witnessing the beauty of it.

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I sat in my bed, ignoring the moans and groans coming from my parent's bedroom. I could imagine what they were doing in there, and, surprisingly, it made me smile.

They love each other very much.

I think back to the journal, or 'thought book' as Daddy called it.

The leather bindings were worn and torn, and oh-so perfect. They told their own tale by the lines in it, the pages speaking a language I didn't understand, the language of creases in the page, of confessions of love that, at the time, hadn't been answered.

I gave in to my own weakness and got back out of bed. I scurried down the hall and up the stairs to the dusty attic, where the old trunk sat, no longer smothered in dust.

I cracked the lid open again, my eyes widening as I saw the old things in it. There wasn't much in it to be honest, just an old bow, a quiver of arrows, and probably ten books lining the bottom.

I picked them all out, laying them on the floor so I could get to them easier.

I fished out the thought book and flipped to the last written page, just for shits and giggles.

_This morning I awoke and Aragorn was beside me._

The pen strokes were more care-free in this entry.

_Both of our clothes were off in the corner, and for the first few minutes, I didn't know why. Then I remembered the joy of last night, the primal scratching at each other, the need to be not only physically inside each other, but be mentally inside too. It was the best feeling I've ever had. I think I might have to stop writing in you, dear thought book, for I worry that you might, as they say, 'jinx' our relationship, or whatever this is. So, for the last time, Goodbye._

_Legolas_

I stared at the paper. There was so much pent up emotion in this entry I couldn't believe it. It was as if I could feel what he was feeling back then.

I put the book back down, suddenly feeling incredibly dirty for reading something so private, so close to my own father's heart.

I closed my eyes and picked one of the books out of the pile.

In my hands then was a leather cover. I opened it and found a picture taped up on the first page.

It depicted my parents staring at the camera, their own arms around each other, their eyes shimmering with a secretive glaze.

_A quiet spark of love sizzled as Legolas squeezed the last bit of space between them away. He thought of all the bloody battles of Middle Earth, and how they had tried so hard, and got so far. And now they have new lives. Together. Both as men, this time._

_A glint of mischief was in their eyes as they snapped the picture._

I flipped the page. Their foreheads were against each other, their hands on their faces, their arms both holding the camera for good luck.

_The humming of love was almost corporeal as Legolas and Aragorn stroked each other's faces. There were no empty spaces between them._

_Their right and left arm, respectively, held the camera. Their fingers played a little game with each other as they snapped the picture together, for good luck._

On the opposite side of the page was one of my daddy, alone. There was snow falling around his feet, and he had just glanced over his shoulder, probably called by Dad. On his face was a solemn look, a tired, worn-out stare. But that didn't take away from his beautiful, sharp features. A hint of happiness was in his eyes, but it seemed just the very beginning of a happy smile.

_Aragorn observed the depressed blonde man in front of him. He was walking loudly, something he only does when he isn't happy. Aragorn felt the need to do something, so he reached into his bag for the device they used all the time._

_Aragorn felt the buttons of the camera over his hard, calloused fingers._

"_Legolas!" the man looked up, a tired look in his eyes. Aragorn instantly clicked the button, saving the picture for all eternity._

_A small smile made its way across Legolas' face._

_So he __**was**__ loved, after all._

I turned the page. On the next one, which had a weird angle, there stood a goofy-looking Aragorn. A stupid smile was on his face, his arm blurred because he was reaching out to the photographer, who was dodging the attack. I could just hear the laughter.

"_No! I won't give it to you!" a laughing Legolas declared, dodging Aragorn's swinging arm._

"_Give it up!" Legolas snapped a picture just then, and ran off, still laughing. Aragorn followed him like a lost puppy. A very fast, rugged, yet lost, puppy. "C'mon back here you two-timing BASTARD!" Aragorn playfully screamed. "OH YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS LATER TONIGHT! DO I REALLY HAVE TO BREAK OUT THE CHAINS AND ROPES? ARE YOU ASKING TO BE TIED UP?"_

"_MAYBE!" came Legolas' only reply._

I looked over to the other side. Dad was asleep, his shirt and who-knows-what-else was off, Daddy sitting over him with the camera, his face smiling, a Sharpie in his hand. I looked over Dad's face again, something not quite right about it, and that's when I noticed the drawn-on kitten whiskers. Also a small heart was drawn on his temple, the name 'LEGOLAS 4EVA' scrawled underneath it.

_Legolas worked quietly and lightly, trying not to wake the man._

_He finished his work and capped the Sharpie, throwing it into the corner as if it was demonically possessed. That would be a good excuse for when he wakes up._

'_The pen was demonically possessed! It __**made**__ me do it!'_

_Legolas thought through his escape plan, as he bustled around in the kitchen. When he finally dropped a metal pot, movement could be heard in the bedroom._

_Aragorn got up and walked into the kitchen, not really caring that he was completely naked. The only person he knew that wanted to see this was just over there, in the kitchen._

"_So, you just were taking a little __**cat**__ nap?" Legolas asked, implications dripping off every word._

"… _Yeah." Aragorn was already a bit suspicious but he labeled this as just morning overreactions. And he didn't like the fact that Legolas hadn't even looked over at him. "Legolas, look at me." Aragorn finally ordered. "It's too early to be doing to dishes."_

_Legolas turned to him and smirked, holding back a giggle._

"_Have you already decided what you're going to be for Halloween? A __**kitty**__, I suppose." Aragorn started getting a little bit annoyed that Legolas hadn't even gotten a boner yet. Aragorn had wanted Legolas screwing him by now!_

"_Screw it," Aragorn whispered, grabbing Legolas' hips hardly, then putting his hand down the front of his pants. He wanted a response, dammit!_

_He got one. Legolas' head flopped backwards, moans escaping his mouth._

_Then Aragorn just happened to look into the sink, where he just happened to see his reflection. The one with the kitten whiskers and the heart._

_At the sight, Aragorn immediately knew what to do._

_He clenched Legolas' now __**man**__hood tightly, making him scream out in a mixture of pain and pleasure._

"_Oh, you're going to get it," Aragorn whispered seductively. "I'm going to have to take that Sharpie away from you. Or maybe use it on you, just a few different places."_

I turned the page, getting tired already. The pure emotion in the pictures were making me tired. The next picture was… of…

I yawned and gave into my exhaustion, slumping down right there on the floor.

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Right as Aragorn dropped down on top of Legolas' back, completely spent, he heard a sound coming from the attic.

A steady breathing, then a snoring, then breathing again.

Aragorn slid out of his partner, getting up and changing into his pajama pants, throwing Legolas' at him, making sure to avoid the now-sticky spots on the bed.

"Come on, we gotta go check the attic." Legolas immediately complied. If Aragorn asked or told Legolas to do something, it wasn't without reason.

They walked hand-in-hand down the hall and up the stairs to the attic. There they saw Lizzie asleep among the scrap books. One was open to the picture that had two copies.

One was for the scrap book, and one was for the bedside table in their room.

It was of both Legolas and Aragorn holding up their left hands, showing off the golden bands.

They sighed, and bent down to pick up Lizzie and carry her back to her bedroom.

Ahhh.

Life's good.


End file.
